Just One Dance
by Mephilia Venus
Summary: Jeanne pays Cereza a visit after work.


Cereza dimmed the "Open" sign with significantly more force than necessary, taking immense satisfaction in watching each letter of red neon flicker out. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed 4:15 as she looked around at the now-empty Gates of Hell. How much of this mess could she put off cleaning until tomorrow?

She could already hear Rodin's voice in her head - _"If you didn't want this job, you shouldn't have blown that convent I set you up at sky-high"_. Well, as it had turned out, angels were not deterred from the attack by the threat that holy ground would be destroyed in the process. At least Cereza had lasted just long enough to collect on Enzo's bet that she wouldn't make it a week, a sum which had bought her some lovely consolation earrings.

Strolling over to the gothic-styled record player that sat by the bar, Cereza sifted through several vinyls before settling on an old French recording that she had always been fond of. Allowing the singer's lovelorn voice to fill the empty space of the bar, Cereza set to work. Rodin was off on his own business somewhere in Inferno tonight, so Gates of Hell was all hers.

 _"Il est entré dans mon cœur, Une part de bonheur, Dont je connais la cause,"_ she hummed along as she wiped down the black marble of the bar. But the record wasn't quite loud enough to overpower the distinct sound of a customer walking through the door, despite the clear indication that business was closed for the night. Cereza's fist clenched atop the bar as she turned around, preparing to summon up her most passive-aggressive "kindly fuck off now" voice.

The lipstick-adorned grin of the red leather-clad woman in the doorway stopped Cereza in her tracks.

"I must say, the bartender look suits you much better than that sorry habit did," Jeanne remarked as she crossed the floor, seating herself atop one of the velvet barstools. She cast an appreciative eye over Cereza's black-and-red ensemble of cropped t-shirt, skin-tight jeans, and knee-high boots. "You look positively ready and capable of kicking any drunk college student's ass."

"Believe me, I've been sorely tempted," Cereza groaned. "I never would have guessed the Gates would be so popular with that crowd. Although speaking of students, what's got you out so late?"

"I finally took up that offer from the English department to join in their Friday night barhop," Jeanne explained as Cereza began to mix them both drinks. "Who knew that alcohol could bring out so many passionate opinions about Edgar Allan Poe?"

"Does that mean it was better or worse than drinks with the history teachers, then?" Cereza asked, setting a champagne cocktail on the bar in front of the other witch. "One Goodnight Kiss, on the house."

Jeanne raised her eyebrows, holding back a smirk. "Careful, now. I'll have to hold you to that." Cereza responded with only a wicked "just wait until we get home" smile over her shoulder as she walked back around to the front of the bar.

The blonde witch downed half the glass in one go, then concluded, "It was leagues more entertaining than my fellow historians ever are, but I doubt that anything will ever top karaoke night with the fine arts department." Cereza had accompanied Jeanne to that particular event, and felt inclined to agree.

Leaning her head back, Jeanne tapped the slow, swaying rhythm of the record out with her foot against the bar. "Lovely music choice, by the way. Takes me back to Paris like it was only yesterday."

"Yes, not all of us got to enjoy wild nights of debauchery up and down all of Montmarte's finest clubs," Cereza said as Jeanne mimicked the hand motions of a wild Charleston. "This isn't too horrible of a downgrade, is it?"

"Is that jealousy I detect?" the blonde witch teased. "You mustn't hold it against me too much, Cereza, I had to kill the time somehow."

Jeanne finished her drink off, standing from her seat. "And don't worry about that," she added on, gray eyes flashing as she moved towards the dark-haired witch. Before Cereza could move away, Jeanne wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her close. "This is just fine," she assured.

"What's this?" Cereza pretended to swat at Jeanne, although she leaned into the blonde witch's embrace, loving the way that their bodies always seemed to fit perfectly together. A laugh escaped Jeanne's throat, her breath warm against Cereza's neck.

"May I have this dance, _mon chère_?" she asked, hands continuing to roam up Cereza's waist in a decidedly more-than-friendly manner.

"Well, that depends," Cereza said, although Jeanne's fingers running traces across her skin felt amazing as always.

Jeanne gave a low humming sound, inhaling the lingering traces of the perfume on Cereza's neck that she knew so well from within their own bedroom. "Is there a problem?"

"More like a clarifying question," Cereza responded, turning on her heel to catch Jeanne in a kiss before the other witch could react. Their lips stayed locked together for several moments, long enough for the chorus of the song to cycle through once again.

Finally, they broke apart with a touch of reluctance, although Cereza quickly found her smile once more as she traced her own hand down Jeanne's arm. "Who's going to be leading?" she smirked.

Jeanne entwined her fingers with Cereza's, pressing their bodies together. "I'm sure that we'll be able to work something out."


End file.
